Because I was saved as a child by Professional Wrestling, setting foot in the industry was likely the worst mistake I made in my life.
That being said, if I had to fight with my personal demons as well as the demons plaguing the industry, I would have done it all over again.
Even if I fought for it for all the wrong reasons, the woman I have become could not have been achieved. Going into Professional Wrestling helped me find the Vorpal Sword for my inner Jabberwocky.
I felt like I owed it something.
I never wanted anyone to go through what I went through; the childhood horror of going to your dreams and realizing that people were out to walk on you and slit your throat when you got fattened up enough by stroke. Doing such things was another day in the office, and I couldn't take it the first time. I thought that, now that I was older and wiser with writing and entertainment under my belt that even if I couldn't change the industry, I could force change by getting enough heat that someone would one-up me and actually do what needed to be done. I could be an example of a fool, and less fools would be brought to the world of Professional Wrestling.
I was trying to make friends when "Friends" meant something else to me entirely. I was an idiot to think of people as life-long friends in a business environment. I was still a child trying to help people, hoping that they would see me as a "good girl".
To be fair, I did make good friends in the industry, but I learned not to be dependent on them to help me through my various mental crises. It was one of them that helped me figure out how my head worked and that I needed more help than I thought.
After figuring out that a lot of my obsession for Professional Wrestling came from a bad place, all I had left to love were the stories being told.
Cut to these days. There is a great purge not just of Professional Wrestling, but of society. One of the biggest reasons I had so much hate in my heart was because nobody wanted to clean out what was hurting the business. It was another day in the office. Promoters could be carny people but keep that desperation in those who had a dream that they kept their mouths shut. Not only out of fear, but in some places, out of instruction by those who trained them.
I wanted this cycle to end.
I shared poison and desperation myself, trying to find answers as to why things were happening. I figured the only way to get someone's attention was to get them angry, so I used facts to be toxic. It was completely unprofessional, but at the same time I had to prove a point. If someone like me can rattle cages so easily, this industry had a serious problem. I completely lost hope in humanity, and yet my nature kept wanting to help people by reflex even if I died.
There is no way to get fairness and unionization inside the industry. I have to shift gears and hopefully scream until people take themselves seriously and can not only make decent product, but keep out those who would hurt the other workers and fans.
The thing is that people are starting to fix things. Attrition is happening as I hoped it would. I have nothing left to be angry about, and thus, my time in Professional Wrestling is over. Helping the workers, though? I will continue to do so until the indies get a fairer shake and realize that even when people are having fun, they need to take themselves seriously. They are Professional Wrestlers. It means something.
I'll finish up this manifesto and figure out what I can do outside of the industry for the sake of my husband-to-be, Daulton Gallup.
... also known as Salty Daulty.
I will continue writing. That's what I do best. I will see what world I can make to preserve you in my heart.